


Germany + Iraq + Austria = Nightmares

by Anonymous



Series: Mac + Desi + Zayn [9]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Bisexual!Desi, Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, We love communication and mutual support, nonbinary OC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:15:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24888982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Desi may have saved Helen in Germany, but that doesn't mean her brain will let her sleep.
Relationships: Angus MacGyver/Desiree "Desi" Nguyen, Desiree "Desi" Nguyen/Original Character(s)
Series: Mac + Desi + Zayn [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1374475
Kudos: 5
Collections: Anonymous





	Germany + Iraq + Austria = Nightmares

Desi woke up screaming.

“Shh, shh.” Zayn was on her in an instant, blinking sleep from their eyes and wrapping their arms around her shoulders. “I’m here, baby, I’m here.”

It wasn’t enough. Desi pulled Zayn into her lap, burying her face in their curls and breathing deep, trying to focus on the feeling and the scent. Zayn was still crooning quietly and yet somehow, in her head, all she could see was the absolute disaster of cuts and bruises on Zayn’s back, the ones she _knew_ were healed now, but that didn’t stop the injuries from oozing blood onto her fingers.

“Desi,” Zayn called, soft and gentle as they tried to get her back from wherever she was trapped. They took her face in their hands and laid her forehead gently against their own. “It’s okay, baby, I’m here. I’m here, and I’m safe. And you saved that woman, and she’s safe too. Everyone is safe.”

Desi took a deep inhale, trying to focus on Zayn’s warm hands and their eyes, just a little too close to see without a blur. “You’re safe,” she croaked in reply, but it didn’t come out as certain as she wanted. 

“Do you want me to call Mac?” Zayn asked softly.

Sometimes, Desi wanted to hold both of them after a nightmare. Mac had called Zayn at 3am several times, and Zayn had called Mac a couple. But they hadn’t offered in awhile. 

Desi shook her head, as much as her heart ached to say yes. Fights and everything be damned, she wanted him, but it was her pride that kept her from asking, pride as she willed herself to stop her silent sobbing.

Zayn hummed an affirmative. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

She wouldn’t. Besides, there was no way he wouldn’t be annoyed about the time. She didn’t mean that to him anymore.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Zayn asked, even though they knew she never did. Desi shook her head anyway. “Let’s go make some tea, hm?”

It was framed inclusively, but Desi wasn’t doing much of anything, just sitting at the kitchen table and staring at her fingers. They were hers, in the present, nails kept clean of dirt, but they still shook, the same way they had when she’d found Zayn in the warehouse. 

They stood in front of her until she looked up at them, and they took her shaking hands to their hips and they made her squeeze. “I’m okay,” they promised. “I’m okay. I’m right here, and I’m safe.”

The kettle whistled. Desi jumped, and her nails bit into the bare flesh of Zayn’s hips. They didn’t even wince, though Desi could see where her nails broke the skin. 

Zayn patted her hair. “Sorry, love.”

They brewed some of their special chamomile, part of the collection of leaves they’d picked up on their last trip to Lebanon. Chamomile was the typical “Desi had a nightmare” drink, but the special chamomile only came out when it was one of these.

They’d made it once for Mac when he’d stayed over, not long after the incident at the Phoenix. Desi wasn’t sure he understood just how much that meant.

She sipped the tea and felt a little better. The two of them sat at the table in silence as Zayn waited patiently.

“It was about Helen,” she said finally. “Actually. Except you were in Germany, too.” She raked a hand through her hair. “And then it just...turned into Iraq, and then it turned into Austria all over again.”

It always turned back into Austria, one way or another. It was one of the more undeniable symptoms of PTSD they liked to point out to her.

“I was afraid I was going to lose you,” Zayn confessed quietly, sipping their own tea. “I could never tell you to leave - I knew you wouldn’t, even when Matty said so - but I knew you wouldn’t leave Helen.” Zayn sighed, smiling sadly. “Mac said you should leave, Matty said you should leave, but I kept my mouth shut.” They wiped at their eyes. “I kept my mouth shut and I prayed that Mac would get the bomb out of there, because I knew that was the only way I was ever going to see you again.”

Desi exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry.” She took another long sip of tea. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“And you didn’t,” Zayn replied. “Which is what matters. And I’m not dead either, and that is what matters.” Desi nodded. “Tomorrow you can do some DBT stuff - don’t give me that look,” they added, as she wrinkled her nose, “you know this is a trauma thing and you promised if you weren’t going to see a therapist, you’d at least work through the exercises on your own.”

Desi had promised that, and she wasn’t going to break it. “Fine.”

Their eyes flicked quickly, probably looking for a new subject, and finally they found one. “Tell me about the happy things on your trip. Tell me about Helen.” They managed a genuine smile at that one.

Desi managed one right back. “Well, she said my boyfriend was very handsome.”

Zayn winced. “Did you have to explain again that you and Mac aren’t dating?”

“She was talking about you, babe.” Desi smiled softly, reveling in Zayn’s delighted face of surprise. “She wanted to see pictures of my family after I met hers, so I showed her you and Puff and Buster. She said I had a handsome boyfriend and we would have beautiful children.”

Zayn giggled. “I feel like that’s a very motherly thing to say.”

“It was. I didn’t bother to explain the whole ‘there are more than two genders’ thing, though,” Desi added regretfully; she always wanted to make sure people were correct about Zayn. “We didn’t have enough time. Her boys were lovely - they wanted me to stay for a meal, but we had to get on the jet.” 

“A shame.” Zayn winced suddenly and Desi felt herself go on high alert. “Think it’s time for more painkillers.”

Desi tutted softly. “I’m sorry you’re having a flare-up, babe. But I’m glad you stayed behind. I’m really glad I got to come home to you.” She was the one to stand up and get the acetaminophen, to get a few crackers because Zayn couldn’t take any pills without food, and to run her fingers through their hair. It was easy to take care of Zayn at the same time they were taking care of her.

Zayn gave her a grateful smile, then took both pills at once with a big sip of tea and grimaced. 

“It’d be easier to swallow if you did them one at a time,” Desi chided, not for the first time.

And then the time-honored response: “Yeah, but then I have to swallow twice.”

“Suit yourself.” Desi tangled her fingers in Zayn’s hair, looping the curls around her fingers and tugging instead of simple strokes. She got a purr in return for her efforts. 

“C’mon, let’s go back to bed, you know not sleeping makes you worse.” She felt a stab of guilt at the fact that _she_ was currently the cause of not sleeping.

Zayn looked up at her with big eyes. “Only if you’re ready,” they declared resolutely, and Desi knew better than to lie to them, so she just kind of wiggled her fingers. She wasn’t in fight or flight anymore, but she was still a little too anxious to sleep.

She still carried Zayn back to bed, though, and earned a laugh for her troubles. They’d been laughing more, lately. So had she. Things had gotten better since the return of Phoenix, even with the increase of near-death experiences. 

Things were getting better with Mac, too.

When she put Zayn down on the bed, she remembered belatedly the empty mugs and decided to deal with them tomorrow. Or today, she guessed, but after they slept. 

“Can’t lay down,” Zayn apologized, pushing their back against the headboard. “But you should.” They patted their lap where they were seated, and Desi took the invitation, smiling softly at the fingers in her hair. 

And then Zayn started to sing. Their pronunciations were...not the best, because they weren’t very far into learning Vietnamese, but it was still her mother’s song and it was still the key to her heart. She felt herself calming down even further.

It also made her think of Mac, and the crazy-stupid scaling the electrical tower they’d done so long ago, but the thought didn’t hurt her like usual. She even managed a small smile. 

Yeah, there were still nightmares, but she was still the happiest she’d been in awhile.

**Author's Note:**

> So apparently I'm doing the same thing as last time and getting really hyperfocused and just tearing through these. I think I might actually finish the arc I have planned (which is maybe the whole series and maybe not if I have other ideas) on this burst.   
> Your comments and kudos give me life; I'm glad y'all care about Zayn and these two dorks like I do. Thanks for your continued support, hope you enjoyed!


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